Everything is Horrible and Wonderful: A Tragicomic Memoir of Genius, Heroin, Love, and Loss

by Stephanie Wittels Wach

Tragedy always strikes on a beautiful day.

Not that we are super religious, but in Judaism, it’s customary to bury a loved one within forty-eight hours. And in Judaism, the customs are really the point.

I’m either sad or gearing up for the next shitstorm. It’s exhausting. I just want to sleep. That’s all I want to do. If I’m asleep, I can’t worry or cry or think about how my only brother is dead.

In Judaism, an unveiling is the ceremony that happens within a year of a loved one’s death to formally dedicate the headstone. Prior to today, your grave was marked with a sad little sign that stuck out of the ground with your name typed in Arial font. Today we will go the cemetery for the unveiling. It’s a beautiful day: clear blue skies, sixty-one degrees. I was living in Manhattan when the Twin Towers fell: that was a beautiful day. I got the call that you died last February: that was a beautiful day. We go to the cemetery to unveil your headstone: another beautiful day. Beautiful days scare the shit out of me now.

A few days before the anniversary of your death, I wake up with the realization that I need to buy a yahrzeit candle. In Judaism, it’s the memorial candle that’s lit every year on the anniversary of a loved one’s death. I search Amazon and read reviews. I can’t fathom having the time or energy to write a review on anything, but reviewing a yahrzeit candle feels especially odd. Nevertheless, I read them. People seem to favor one that comes in a blue tin because it’s cheaper. Jews. I think about that one joke you always used to tell about Jews. You’d come out onstage and confidently exclaim in this sort of sing-songy voice, “Jews love money!” Then you’d hold for a beat and say, “I can say that because…I hate Jews.”